


Warming Up

by shadoedseptmbr



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadoedseptmbr/pseuds/shadoedseptmbr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between Ostagar and Lothering, Alistair tries to get to know the new Warden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warming Up

_You can do this. You fight darkspawn. Maker’s Breath, man, you killed an_ ogre _. You can talk to one elf._

 _Yup. Talk to her all the time. Hey, how’re you doing? Here’s one of your arrows. Thanks for skinning the rabbit, tonight. Watch out for that…oh you got it, great. Major conversations there_.

Alistair sat down next to Mahariel on one of the logs they’d dragged to the edge of the campfire. The witch, Morrigan, was tending to something on her smaller fire, too self absorbed to join them.

Mahariel. He wasn’t sure that was her name. He’d heard her talking to the mabari and he was fairly sure she’d introduced herself as something else…something with an ‘a’ sound. But to him, she’d called herself Mahariel and it was rude to question a woman’s right to her own name, he thought.

She had her dark head down, the little braids swinging forward as she stroked one of her curved blades along the whetstone. Oil glistened on the fine bones of her fingers and he was struck again by how much strength was in such small hands. Firelight caught on the slight sheen of her markings, curving up her temple and her chin.

"Ah. Thanks for skinning the rabbit, tonight."  _Oh, Maker, really?  That’s how you want to start?_

She paused and nodded, “Of course.”

"It’s just…I always manage to leave a little fur in there. It…doesn’t really add much…to the flavor, I mean." _Ah, yes. Way to show off some measure of competence. Can’t lead. Can’t even skin a rabbit._

"I have practice. It is no matter." She had yet to take her eyes off her work.

He really liked the way she rolled her ‘r’s. But he wasn’t going to be distracted by that. She needed to hear what he had to say. But he pulled his whetstone out as well and set to work on his gear. His stroke was longer than hers but hers had a higher pitch. Hmm…the metal, maybe? Were elf daggers…. _dar misu_ , she’d called them, even made of metal?

He glanced over. _Looks like metal, shines like metal, sharpens like metal. And her armor? Just leather and more metal. She’s an elf not a Fade spirit. And elves bleed same as humans. And Morrigan had just managed to heal the slice she’d taken across her gut earlier. Dammit, just talk to her._

"I…look, you can yell at me if you want…but I need to say this. We picked up some armor off those bandits. You really should…use the better set. I’m pretty good at…adjusting them and they were fairly small, I think.  About your size."

_Ah, well she was looking at him now._

Her large, deep, green eyes were narrowed and suspicious.  "You wish me to change my armor?"

 _Blast._ He swallowed hard. “I…you got hurt earlier and…it’s just…Morrigan’s no healer. Why take a chance if you don’t have to?”

"Master Ilen gave these to me when I took my first hide and earned my  _vallaslin_. They have served me well.”

 _Vallaslin. Right. Oh, holy Andraste, what did that mean?_ “But…look, I know you said you fought darkspawn, before…but…most of your…you were a hunter, right? The deer weren’t trying to kill you.”

Blinking, she turned back to her blades.  The fire crackled and popped burning through pockets of sap as Alistair stared at the hilt on his hand desperately trying not to squirm on his log and he almost missed it when she replied softly, “No. I was attacked by a boar, once, though.”

"Really?"

"They are vicious and very fast. The other animals avoid them." It sounded almost as if Mahariel was worried he might think less of her.

"Yeah, I know. I went on a hunt once, carrying spears for the nobles, I mean. One of the knights was gored…it was a nasty wound."

"Did he die?"

"Yeah."

"And he was wearing armor like yours?" She’d arched a winged eyebrow at him and he had to nod.

"Yes, but…"

"I was wearing this. And I did not die." Mahariel paused, pursing her mouth in a way that reminded Alistair a little of the mother who used to take his confession. "It is…enchanted, I think."

"Yes, but…ah, never mind. I’m sorry I brought it up." He’d have to let her take her chances, then. Resign himself to keeping a better eye on her, help keep her out of trouble when she was fighting in up close.

They worked a while longer. The fire reached another  knot of resin in one of the logs, cracking and shooting sparks up. When Alistair looked back at her, a shamed grin on his face from the way he’d jumped, Mahariel was gone. Blighted sneaky rogue. Sighing, he stood to move the kettle away from the fire, to top it off from the bucket he’d drawn from the abandoned well they’d camped near, earlier.

A slight rustle was all that notified him that Mahariel had returned, on his off-side. In her hands, she held a small leather basket lined with leaves and filled with, he blinked in surprise, little purple snowberries.

She cocked her head at him with a slight duck of her head, her braids bobbing.  "You were right…to chastise me. I have little from my clan and I…do not wish to forget."

"Oh…oh, no, I wasn’t…"

"You were not telling me that I should use what comes to hand, if it is better than what I had?" The elf looked a little confused and it was almost adorable.  _Maker, what is wrong with me? She’s my…sister. That’s what Duncan said, sisters and brothers in the Wardens._

_And they’re all gone, but me…and her._

When Alistair glanced up again Mahariel was staring at him with concern, now, in her eyes. Embarrassed to be caught in his mourning, he just agreed to what she was saying. “Well, yes. I guess I was saying that.”

After a moment she nodded. “And you were right, so.” She held out the berries. “You weren’t happy with the porridge this morning. These should make it sweeter, if you are used to it. We might even find a bee-gum. It isn’t too late to take some honey.  If they have sense, the bees will leave anyway, before the darkspawn come.”

It was the most she’d spoken since she’d introduced herself, a week and a lifetime ago and he found himself distracted by the unusual animation in the musical lilt.

Her eyebrow had twitched down and Alistair realized he hadn’t taken the gift from her. “Um…yeah. I like these…I didn’t know they grew this far south.” He popped one in his mouth. “Thanks.”  _Oh, Maker. I could have at least swallowed first._

But she smiled a little and shook her head as she took one of the berries, companionably.

Maybe he wasn’t going to screw things up as badly as he thought.

 


End file.
